Blue Lips
by raigingstorm
Summary: Songfic. "He wouldn't be stopped. Not until Ed was safe." RoyEd-ish.


**Hello, my lovely readers. I'm back again, and quite soon! I got off my arse and finished one of the WIP's I had. It was almost done anyways, eheh.**

**This is a Songfic for Regina Specktor's "Blue Lips." In my Homestuck obsession (yes, I have fallen into that), I came across it and really fell in love with the song. So I did something with it. The song is meant not only to provide a loose framework for the story, but also a very strong sense of emotion. I seriously recommend either listening to the song while reading or beforehand. If you've never listened to my song suggestions before, I really think you should do so now in this particular case. **

**By the way, this is my first real songfic. Like, with the words all italics and the story utterly entwined with the song. Hope it goes well!**

**I don't own FMA or "Blue Lips." I just own this little odd bit of writing here.  
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><p><strong>Blue Lips<strong>_  
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_He stumbled into faith and thought, "God this is all there is?"_

Edward can't remember anything. Well, maybe he remembers a little. Blood. Scarlet fluid, the essence of life, part water, part cells, part plasma of the stars, everywhere. Pain. Searing, screeching, mind-blowing pain. Yelling voices, explosions, rushing water, or was the last only in his head? Now there is nothing, not even the faintest trace of color.

_The pictures in his mind arose and began to breath._

Though it is disconcerting at first, Ed finds that once he gets used to the sensation of _nothing_, he quite likes it. There is no worry, no hurt, no _anything_. It is peaceful and relaxing and for once, he is more than willing to just lay there. He may not remember what he was doing, but he knows whatever it was definitely warranted a little relaxation. He'll have to thank Mustang later for giving him this, the fucking bastard, for finally giving him some vacation time.

Mustang. Dark eyes, almost black but not quite, staring into his own, pleading silently with him. His deep tenor, normally strong but now overcome with some strange not-colonel-bastard emotion telling him, no, _commanding_ him to hold on, to just wait. Fuck him. He didn't even want to do that job anyways, whatever it was, and the older man was probably jealous Ed would get a vacation and he wouldn't. Though, now that he thinks about it, he can't remember how he got here. And where is here, anyways?

Ed opens his eyes to find that he can't. The lids stay firmly over his eyeballs, as heavy as stones. Struggling makes him tired. He's starting to feel fatigue, the kind that spells out a huge sleep debt. It pricks at his body and makes him not want to move at all. When he continues to fight against the force of _whatever_ that ties him down in this nothingness, he feels pin-pricks of pain that threaten to worsen. They remind him of that of which he cannot truly remember. He stops trying.

_And all the gods and all the worlds began colliding on a backdrop of blue…_

It's too late to remain ignorant, however. Remembrance shoots back at him like the bullet that pierced his midsection, just above his right hip. That's where the pain comes from, and now it is back, full force. Realization dawns on him like the sun rising over their enemies on the hill: he is not on any vacation. Edward Elric may very well be dead.

He refuses to accept that.

_Blue lips…_

_Blue veins…_

He struggles to feel. Bring the pain! Bring the world! He's not ready to kick the bucket just yet. He's got too much to live for now. His brother is alive, his brother is whole, and all he wants is to live his live beside Al. He must finish his military contract to do that. He must continue on! He focuses all his energy into moving his hand – his flesh hand, for it will take less energy. At least, he hopes. Move. _Move._

_He took a step, but then felt tired._

Roy Mustang sits in Central Military Hospital, his head wound bound tightly. It doesn't matter that he needs the cot bent up like it is to sit up. All that matters is the man in the bed next to him. The one whose breaths seem to grow shallower with every minute. The one who seems more important right now than even Roy himself. 'Pull through it, Fullmetal… Edward… you have to.'

_He said, "I'll rest a little while."_

He turns his head towards the other way, towards the door. He can't believe this has happened. It wasn't supposed to. Not even in his wildest speculations had he imagined Edward would get in the way. It was the wildcard he hadn't expected, and though it meant that he was now alive and the battle was won, it also meant that the blonde on the other cot might not pull through this time.

_But when he tried to walk again, he wasn't a child…_

Suddenly unsure, Roy brings his face around to gaze upon the other man once more. Fullmetal awake, Edward alive is all he needs to see. If he could just see those eyes, the molten gold with the passion and the fire… the life. He just needs to see them. He needs to know he isn't the reason why Ed lies there, barely moving, even though there is no escaping the fact.

It's his fault.

The boy on the bed had long ago become a man. His childlike features had given way to sharp lines, the thin frame expanded to include carefully honed muscle. Though the look of innocence had been lost in Ed since the day he and his brother had attempted to bring back their mother, the last bit of childhood had finally fled. He now looks the man he became so young in his life.

_And all the people hurried fast, real fast, and no one ever smiled._

Roy stares at him, willing him to move. Just one movement. One little sign that the man wasn't dead, that he hadn't lost too much blood. Just one.

Edward doesn't move, and Roy turns his attention to the door as a doctor makes his way in. The older man makes his way past, giving a quick nod to the Brigadier-General as he does so. Roy is not his patient. The doctor's white coat trails in his wake, shining in the fake fluorescent light.

_Blue lips, blue veins. Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away…_

_Blue lips._

The doctor takes Ed's pulse.

_Blue veins._

He frowns and scribbles the number on a clipboard. Adjusts the IV in his arm. Turns to Roy.

_Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away._

"I'm not so sure he'll make it."

_He stumbled into faith and thought, "God, this is all there is?"_

God fucking damnit, if he can just wake up! Just push past this veil! It encases him, smothers him. All he has to do is move. So simple an action, yet he can't do it. He isn't relaxed anymore. His mind is primed for a fight, thinking of strategies to win. But how can he even battle when the enemy is himself?

Ed will not let himself die. And he's not thanking Mustang for his "vacation," either.

_The pictures in his mind arose and began to breath._

It is Mustang's fault why he's here, isn't it? Why he can't move? Yet something tells him it is equally his own fault why, too… He has the distinct feeling that he acted on something of his own hidden will. The choice had been his and his alone.

Whatever. He'll still blame the bastard anyways. When he wakes up. Which, he will, because Ed refuses to die.

_And no one saw and no one heard._

_They just followed the lead._

They walked in line, ready to face anything. Alchemists, from every specialty, all out there on the field. Fuhrer's orders. This was it. The true battle that would end it all. Hundreds of soldiers ready at the word, ready to destroy. They would do all they could to ensure victory, and at the head of it all was the newly-appointed Brigadier-General Mustang and beside him, the promotion-refusing Major Elric. The sun would rise on a bloody sight, because they were due to launch attack just before the daylight hours.

_The pictures in his mind awoke and began to breed._

It hadn't even been but a few hours into the battle when Ed turned his gaze towards the bastard Mustang.

And his heart froze.

_They started off beneath the knowledge tree_

For, behind the man stood a tribal man taller than Mustang himself. He wore nothing save strange breast plates that dropped down low enough to cover his genitals. His hair was greasy black and long, tied back into many braids. His face was covered in warrior paint that looked more like alchemy symbols.

_And they chopped it down to make white picket fences._

In one hand he held an Amestrian gun and in the other, water that twisted and moved like a living snake. Ed knew this man's goal even before the water-snake split itself to wet both of Roy's gloves.

_And marching along the railroad tracks, _

That's why he acted so fast, moving like the wild, deadly wind of the valley to shove the raven out of the way.

_They smiled real wide for the camera lenses._

Roy only saw the blonde blur. Then he heard the shot and felt something whiz by, right by, as he fell. His gloves wet, he tried to snap as Edward tried to clap…

_They made it past the enemy lines just to become enslaved in the assembly lines._

And then he caught Fullmetal's eyes as they widened in pain and lost focus. The clap weakened at the last second, and as Ed hit the ground, the alchemical buildup demanded release and pushed out, surging and uncontrolled. Energy rushed out, distorting every inch of ground within a mile radius. Roy rolled as the gun went off again, this time by the impact of hitting the earth, pointed up. When he managed a glace, his would-be assassin was dead, shot by his own stolen gun.

_Blue lips._

Roy stood and tripped again on his way to Edward.

_Blue veins._

He landed inches away from the blonde, who had gritted his teeth and moved his hands to the wound site.

_Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away._

Roy stumbled to his knees, dread filling him as he saw the blood drip from between metal and flesh fingers.

_Blue lips._

Ed glared up at him, any true hostility lost in the pure pain. "Son'a'bitch really shot me, didn't he."

_Blue veins._

Gold eyes blurred with hurt. Color drained from their owner's face. "Th'shit fuckin' hurts, bastard. You owe me one…"

_Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away._

"Just hold on, Ed. We'll get you to a medic tent or even a hospital." Pale hands descended over blood soaked ones, applying pressure to the area.

_Blue. The most human color._

A shudder, a shaky "okay."

_Blue, the most human color._

"It's going to be alright, Edward."

_Blue, the most human color._

"Quit sayin' it an'do sommin abou' it, shit fa-ce." Another shudder.

_Blue lips._

Ed leaned heavily into Roy as the older man maneuvered him so that he could be carried. Not a protest.

_Blue veins._

The Brigadier-General stood and walked, carrying the almost-limp shape with him, even as bullets rain past him, grazing him here and there.

_Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away…_

He wouldn't be stopped. Not until Ed was safe.

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><p><strong>Looking over on it, I'm not sure whether I really like this fic or not. It is quite a bit darker than I like, but I feel it matches the atmosphere of the song better this way. Also, the ending is left open. You are free to make your own decisions as to what happened after this sequence. Since I prefer happy endings, you can guess what I imagine happened next :D <strong>

**Please review! I shamelessly admit that I live for them. I'd like to know how I did and whether songfic is a good style for me. Don't be afraid to tell me if I did something wrong. I can take the heat ;)  
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